


Hellfire

by Raysblast



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Ishval Civil War, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regrets, Self-Hatred, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:47:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raysblast/pseuds/Raysblast
Summary: The flames of the war never stopped consuming Mustang, left to suffer in silence.





	Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.

Roy sat in silence on the old aerugian rug on the floor of his living room, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms tightly wrapped around them.  
His gaze lingered hypnotized on the fireplace, its flames casting shadows, dancing across the dimly lit room. 

Today, was a day Roy wouldn’t hesitate to erase from his brain given the opportunity to. Today marked the day the Ishvalan civil war begun. A genocide, what else could it be called? Lives were taken mercilessly, women, children and men, no one were spared, only a few of them escaped in terrible conditions. 

The arrival of the state alchemists sealed those poor people’s fates. With their feared alchemy they destroyed everything in sight, humans and constructions alike without any pity. 

Roy was one of them, a war hero as the military called him, but he had nothing of a hero, far from that. He was a mass murderer, someone who should have been punished long ago for his actions but will never be.  
They played at the gods, who were they to decide who was to die or live? 

After all these years, he still remembers their pleas, their scream as his flames robbed their lives, the smoke getting caught in their lungs, choking them and the sand soaked in blood from the repeated explosions. All it took was a snap of his fingers and they were all gone. He obeyed without asking any questions like a good soldier, merely a puppet in an evil plan. 

He went to war as a young man with the ideal of saving his beloved country and came back as an adored monster respected and acclaimed by many. Some people admired him and it makes the bile rise to his mouth. How could they close their eyes on what he’s done? 

He swore he’d climbed the ranks all the way up to the top, in order to make Amestris a better place for its citizens, to protect them. It won’t make amends for his crime, he is fully aware of that, but that’s not what matters to him. 

Some nights, his nightmares haunt him and he wakes up late at night drenched in cold sweat, choking on his tears, his voice wrecked from all the screaming. 

One of the worst nightmare he had so far was being slowly burned to death and left agonizing on the sand by the ghosts of the Ishavalans he killed until only a pile of ashes is left of his body. 

He never told anyone about them. Not even Maes. The truth is that he’s not able to maintain his famous poker face when talking too much in details about it. 

Roy places his hand over the flames, letting them slightly burn his fingertips, they’d be burned so much throughout the years that he now possesses a certain level of pain tolerance to flames and heat, at least when it comes to his hands thanks to his ignition gloves. It is more of a curse than a blessing in his eyes if he were to be honest about it.

Many people would tell you that fireplace reminds them of home after a cold winter day, but fire only remind him of death and pain in its worst form. 

Days like today, only a bottle of strong alcohol secretly hidden in a cupboard can take away the pain at least momentarily. Days like these he long for someone trustworthy to turn to, but his team all have their own private struggles to take care of. It is his problem, his own personal hell.


End file.
